MILF
by chezchuckles
Summary: From castlefanficprompts: While doing grocery shopping with Kate, Rick notices some college boys talking about how "hot" Kate is. He gets in on the conversation, and they tell him that he has no chance with a woman like that, and that any of them can get her number.


**MILF**

* * *

Of course, the Hamptons house was empty, the cupboards, all of that. Last minute weekend trip meant no one had come in to air the place out, restock the shelves. Kate walked into the kitchen threading her fingers through the tangled tease of her hair, wincing as she tried to comb out the worst of it. Top down, low seventies weather - such a beautiful drive.

Yes, that was sarcasm. She didn't want to be here. She was in the middle of things at work; she had wanted only to go home to the loft and curl up with a book. Not get hijacked at the precinct by her over-eager husband who had _called in_ to get her Friday afternoon off.

"We gotta head for the store," Castle boomed, as if he thought she was somewhere else in the house.

"Right behind you, babe," she said, coming up and touching his back with two fingers. He startled and turned, his lips snagged in a smile.

"Whoops, yeah. Groceries, first thing. Unless you wanted to unpack?" By the hopeful expectance on his face, he didn't want her to insist on following her normal routines. He wanted food.

"No, I won't make you wait," she murmured, fingers trailing down his back. "Unpack later." She hated doing it out of order; it didn't feel like a good start to vacation. But they'd skipped lunch to get on the road, and she could admit she was hungry too. "But at least take the bags out of the car? Room for groceries."

"I'll do it right now," he said, eager, pushing out of her reach and heading for the front door.

"I can help," she grumbled. "I-"

He disappeared. Her nostrils flared-

 _No, don't. Check the attitude, right now._

Kate abandoned her trek to the door and turned instead for the wide, white living room and the beautiful view of rolling green lawn. She paused before the French doors, touched her fingers to the handle, nudging. Locked.

Kate flipped the lock and opened both sides, inhaling the salt air, the breeze that teased her hair. She took a deeper breath and closed her eyes, felt the sunlight on her face.

Let him unload. Let him do what he wanted to do. He _always_ did what he wanted to do, selfish-

No. No more.

Kate Beckett was on vacation.

* * *

Her hair was wind-whipped again, and she didn't look pleased about it. He was going the speed limit, even under it, just to keep down on the drag, but she had so much hair-

"Castle," she spat out. "Castle! You missed the turn. What're you doing?"

He snapped back to reality - or rather, away from the snarl of her hair and the narrow slant of her eyes - and quickly signaled a turn, flipped them around.

"Illegal u-turn?" she muttered.

"Are you unhappy with me?" he said slowly.

Kate sighed and said nothing, and he turned into a local grocer's, aiming for a spot at the back of the parking lot, closest to the street. He didn't want some Hamptons harpy scratching his car. Not when-

"Really, Castle?" she drawled. "As far away from the front doors as you could get?"

Castle frowned, hands carefully on the steering wheel, keys dangling from the ignition. He'd already turned off the car. "Would you like me to let you off at the doors-"

"No," she snorted, shoving open the door and getting out, slamming it before he could even move.

He peered at her from driver's side, but he had no idea. He simply pressed the button for the automatic roof to come unfolding from the back of the convertible. As always, the smooth glide of precision gears and handsome technology made him grin, and he watched the whole process like he a kid in a candy store.

When it was done, Castle got out of the car and closed the door, thumbing the lock on the key fob with a flourish.

Kate had already stalked halfway across the parking lot for the doors.

He hurried to catch up.

* * *

She had pissed him off, she saw, and she didn't even mind.

She was _glad_ he was being as stony silent as herself because she could use some company in it. For the whole drive, he had sung along to Beach Boys tunes and nattered on about James Patterson's mediocre review in the _Times_ and had completely ignored - or had been entirely oblivious to - her _three_ requests that he put up the soft top or at least stop the car and let her dig around in the suitcase for a rubber band.

Not that he would have thought to pack her hair ties, and really, knowing Castle, he'd only packed lingerie and a robe. Or something as equally skimpy as the white daisy dukes and skin-tight t-shirt he'd presented her at the 12th to change into.

Sometimes the man was so infuriatingly self-centered. He hadn't even _known_ she was annoyed with him until she'd been waspish in the parking lot of the grocery store, for goodness sake.

"How about divide and conquer?" he said to her suddenly. He had the cart in front of him, but he was steering it back towards the front of the store.

Kate realized she'd been stranded in produce, fuming silently. "Divvy it up," she elaborated.

"Here." Castle handed her a basket to carry and she took it, saw him reach for one for himself. "You get non-perishables. I'll get perishables."

"Wine?" she asked.

"No need. Well-stocked. Mother hasn't been up yet this summer." He gave her a false little _ha-ha_ and turned away, heading for the produce.

Kate dismissed him with a wave of her hand and moved deeper into the store. This way, he'd given her carte blanche to choose their dinner menu, since all he had on his list would be milk, butter, fruits and veggies. She was the one who was in charge of the meat, the canned goods, snacks. And he must surely know she wasn't going to buy him frozen potato skins and fried mozzarella sticks.

Well, he did like steaks and shrimp on the grill, most nights, so that was easy enough. She hoped he got red potatoes; last time he'd wrapped them in aluminum foil and grilled them with the steaks and the whole meal had been fall-apart-in-her-mouth fantastic. And the snap peas, the corn on the cob, and she had made her mom's potato salad because that was tradition for a Beckett cook-out, and Castle really loved potato salad.

She was starving, but her bad mood was beginning to wither on the vine.

She could have braided her hair back and wrapped it around in a bun, like she used to do all the time when she had to work early and hadn't gotten a shower. She could have used her clever skills with her fingers to _persuade_ him to pull over, rather than silently fuming about how he'd arranged it all without asking if she even wanted to go.

She'd taken it out on him. Wasn't like she hadn't known exactly who she was marrying when she had said yes. This was Rick Castle. He got excited and he forgot about the other people in the room. Or suffering in the passenger seat.

She had wanted to drive. She had not wanted to be yanked out of her spot before the murder board with a case not yet cleared.

And she was still pouting about it. Who was the child here?

Later, she would have a glass of wine, she would hand Castle her comb (if he had even packed it), and she'd make _him_ brush the tangles out of her hair. He loved doing that girls' sleepover stuff anyway.

* * *

"Naw, man, hold up. MILF. Ever I seen one. I know her kind. Check it. Damn, girl, look-at-you. Come to papa."

Castle glanced up from a selection of fresh greens, his attention drawn by the rapid fire slang tumbling out of the mouths of a group of guys in the front of the store. Tight white t-shirts, slouched cargo shorts, broad shoulders, narrow hips. They looked to be about nineteen, the tanned skin of indulgent and immortal youth, and they were checking out women as they passed. Loudly.

Rudely.

One of the males was wearing the bright green apron of the bag-boys, but the tips of his ears were flushed, as if he was embarrassed by his friends' harassment and knew it wasn't quite professional.

Castle was at the front with the produce, trying to decide between a big plastic container of kale for Kate's nutri-bullet shakes (and for a try at appeasement) or just going with the mixed greens that he could eat as well. He tried to return to his predicament, but he couldn't help overhearing the guys.

"Shit, take a look at her. Damn. Those legs go _on_ and _on._ " A couple of too-loud chuckles. "Damn, girl, yes, reach for it. Reach for _it_." More laughing, louder now. "How hot is that _mouth_. Wrap around me any day."

Castle took a surreptitious peek from his lowered brows, but there wasn't a store manager in sight. He did notice that a mother had taken her daughter by the hand and was tugging her towards bakery. The guys were all looking away from produce, though, not even noticing those who were forced to listen to them, trapped by the melons.

"I could run my tongue-"

Castle straightened up, lips pressed together, and made his way towards the cackling male idiots who were back-slapping and high-fiving each other. He'd grown up with a single mother, and he was raising a daughter, and this just couldn't go on. He didn't even want to know where the tongue was supposed to go.

"Excuse me," he said, offering his most winning smile.

The group went dead still, eyes lifeless. The ringleader gave him a head nod. "What's up, old man?" The store employee looked like he was trying to edge away.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Castle began, gesturing towards them. He happened to turn, only because he was trying indicate the large swath of store which had become subject to their crass talk, but his half-pivot brought the focus of their attention to his own attention.

It was Kate.

She was leaning against the open, frosted door of the freezer section, a package in her hand, biting her bottom lip as she debated the merits of her choice. She discarded the selection, raising on tiptoe to put it away, and yes, her legs went on and on from those short white shorts.

Which he had chosen.

For one moment, his rage flared so brilliant, so all-consuming, that it shocked even him. Violent enough that it shoved him right out of the equally inappropriate _she's mine_ that roared through his guts.

 _She's mine._

The guys were laughing and shoving on each other. "Yeah, old man, she got it. She _got_ it. Even your ass wants it."

His ass. Right. His nostrils flared.

"What you bet she's a Hamptons ho? She'd do it for _free_. I bet she'd beg me to show her the time of her life-"

"I bet you," Castle said quickly, clearing his throat as he turned back to the group. "I bet you I can get her to walk out the door with me."

" _You_?" Big laughter this time, hearty and loud, all the guys slapping each other like that was the best joke in the world.

"Yeah, me," he said, grinning back. It _was_ the best joke in the world. On them. "Right now. I'll go up to her like a _real_ man: I'll be polite, introduce myself, ask about her interests. And we'll see what happens."

"Look, dude, when she shoots you down in flames, don't say we didn't warn you. She's looking for a _time_ , you know what I'm saying? She's not looking for you. Someone just like the sad sack of a fat-ass she's got at home."

Castle cast a swift glance back to his wife. "And you think... _you_ are what she's looking for?"

The group of five, four as the bag-boy eased out of the circle, stood there with that look of _duh_ all over their faces. _Of course, us._

One of them looked familiar. "Hey, aren't you the pool boy?"

The biggest did his chin-nod, flicked a finger, like he was missing a cigarette. "We're pool cleaners. On break. What of it?"

Castle stared back at them, not answering. The pool boy.

Well, some tropes were true.

"What do you say, guys?" Castle clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I walk out of here with that beautiful woman, and the five of you stop talking out of your ass about things you have no _hope_ to ever achieve? Namely the interest of a woman of class."

Head-honcho pool boy narrowed his eyes, literally flexed his pecs under the tight white t-shirt.

Castle didn't wait to seal the bet; he wanted only to make his point.

He approached the frozen food section on silent feet, his back to the idiots at the front of the store. Kate caught sight of him and lifted her head, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. About to accept him gracefully.

"No," he interrupted. He held out his hand to shake. "I'm Rick. I noticed you were having some trouble deciding on what to purchase."

Kate blinked at him, but she was fast. "Rick, huh?" She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. "What role play is this, big guy?"

He grinned wolfishly back at her. "What? Just trying to pick up my wife in the grocery store. Not to mention there's a group of pool boys over my shoulder who don't know how to be respectful."

Her eyes flicked once, came back to him. "I'm Kate," she offered, taking his outstretched hand. "Has anyone ever told you that you're ruggedly handsome?"

"Shameless flirting will get you everywhere." He kept her hand, brought it to his lips softly. "Let's get out of here, Kate. Let me take you somewhere nice. A place deserving of your presence."

Her cheeks went pink, that pretty flush that rose to her skin when he somehow spoke directly to her most-protected and yet so-vulnerable heart.

Had he been taking her for granted, not paying her the attention she deserved? Leering and snarky comments were all part of their banter, the thrill of their clever minds, but when was the last time he had showered her with true and honest words?

"Come with me," he entreated. He dropped the produce to the floor. "Leave it here, and come with me."

Kate glanced to the basket dangling from her fingers and then back up to her hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

She set the basket down on the tile floor in the middle of the frozen foods, and she stepped to his side. "All right. Take me someplace, Rick."

He grinned and softly kissed her cheek before straightening up and escorting her out of the store.

Straight past the pool boys and their slack-jawed astonishment.

But it didn't even matter at that point. He was taking Kate to the 1770 House Restaurant just down the street, a glass of wine and seared tuna sashimi, oysters on the half shell while they stared at each other across the flickering candle.

And then he was going to take his wife home and shower her with attention.

* * *

 **from castlefanficprompts**

 **anonymous** asked:

While doing grocery shopping with Kate, Rick notices some college boys talking about how "hot" Kate is. He gets in on the conversation, and they tell him that he has no chance with a woman like that, and that any of them can get her number. Rick watches in amusement.


End file.
